


New Alignments

by medical_mechanica, Verdin



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Basically a story about snakes, Faust is best girl, M/M, Plague Era, Slow Burn, meet cute, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medical_mechanica/pseuds/medical_mechanica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: Everything has to start somewhere, and in a changing world, new characters enter the stage of the Vesuvian court. The Count himself is not feeling well and is asking for help, and among others, a not-quite-doctor and a magician come to the rescue.This story is just one take on the mysterious events surrounding the half-forgotten past of our three darlings, the oh-so-dashing count and our beloved snake. We'll see how naughty things get with them...





	1. Chapter 1

Ilya felt like a prisoner. Of course, this was very much a fate he had chosen for himself as the guards guided him through the magnificent halls of the palace. The Count hadn't exactly _asked_ him to come here and join their effort against the Plague, but what luck could such an effort have when the great Doctor Devorak wasn't part of it?

If he was completely honest, Lucio not exactly asking meant Lucio sending some mean looking folks to tell him to get his scrawny ass to the palace asap. At least they had patiently waited for him to put on pants.

 

-

  
In much a similar fashion, a young magician was ushered in past the same weighted gilded doors, broad brimmed hat blocking the view of most passersby. Face set into a firm line, Asra breathed a confident sigh upon entering the palace, trailing behind several other mystics of some fashion or another, also lead by a cadre of guards. That wasn't to say that anyone was there under duress, they weren't, but Asra needed resources, _desperately_ , and that brought him to finally consider Count Lucio's call after months of avoidance.

The energy of the whole structure felt off from the get go, and while he tried to grow accustomed to it, it only seemed to cloud the edges of his vision. It was enough to distract him from all those passing through the halls, focused mainly on swirls and patterns that were close to giving away their secret, and it also led to seeing the passing black cloak too late. Shoulders crashed abruptly, the taller form of darkness throwing off Astra's footing, tripping him up. "Sorry," he turned to the figure, taking off the hat and blinking up purple eyes.  
"No harm done, don't wo--" Grey eyes and an ashen face. The man didn't seem too healthy, haggard and tired, dark shadows under his eyes, and still he flashed a smile, "--worry. Don't. You should hurry, you'll lose your friends, and that would be a shame. Not wise traveling alone these days."

“Friends?" An amused smile flickered across the magician's face as he glanced back to the group proceeding in behind him. "Oh, none of mine.” A gesture to the surly guards at his side, noting their looming and insistent presence and how it held up the bustle of the main hall. “Yours?”

"But of course, some of those most dear to my heart. I marvel at how you could possibly think otherwise." The redhead grinned and wanted to continue but was cut off by a cough that rattled through him. Just in time he brought  his hanky up, stifling a sound that was strained and somehow _wet_. One of the guards barely contained a disgusted twitch of his face.

  
Concern grew on the face framed by wisps of white hair, eyes narrowing over the mask the other held in hand. “May I accompany you?”

The two men in uniform seemed more and more perturbed by the hold up the colorful stranger caused, jostling Asra as more people forced past. The magician didn’t wait before joining the colorless man, falling back into step with the guards. He obviously didn’t care about splitting off from the procession of mystics, and was a splash of rainbow next to the drab billowing figure coughing beside him. “Are you feeling well?”  
"I'm fine." The redhead was just a tad too quick in putting the fabric back into the sleeve of his black jacket. The young mage was used to parlor tricks and was quite sure he wouldn't have noticed otherwise.

"You don't know where we are heading, and yet you want to accompany us? Is it my chiseled face or my excellent posture that drew you in?"  
Violet eyes further narrowed, keenly blinking up at the pale ‘chiseled’ features, and the magician made a face, ignoring the snark. “That mask, actually. Are you here for the Plague?” Of course, most of the current visitors were all present at the palace for the Plague in some manner or another, but a sick man with a bad-mooded escort during a time like this was a thing of interest to begin with.

"Oh, that old thing..." He turned the beaked mask in his hands, realizing only now he had been carrying it under one arm the whole time. Too much part of his body to even notice. "You wouldn’t believe me if I claimed this was just a fashion item, right?"  
Brows raised as Asra smiled bemusedly and hummed, before looking ahead, gracefully keeping in step despite the difference in their strides. “Where _are_ we going?”  
"The library," one of the guards answered in the redhead's stead. "Turn left  No more holdups."  
  
The magician looked pleased as he accompanied the doctor and his entourage down a grand hallway. After passing several doors, it was a heavy and ornate one at the end of the lengthy room they stopped at. The guards knocked and stood aside as the door was slowly opened, someone behind it fighting with size, weight and hinges that could use some oil, allowing dusty air and blueish gloom to slowly waft out. Just as Asra moved to enter into this new source of wisdom and adventure, he paused. No, this was not his honor to take.

After a small glance to the his unwitting and unhappy companion, he stepped back as well, and allowed the cloaked man the first steps..

 

-

 

The library was an oasis of calm in all the hustle and bustle of the palace and after entering, it was the first time Ilya allowed himself a proper breath - even if it lead to new coughing. He tasted copper on his tongue.

It was cool in there, dry and dark, light filtered through stained glass in high high arches. Large wooden desks in eager use, illuminated by the soft glow of crystals, and a librarian who was as dry and and brittle as her books. She demanded names, permits, and raised spare brows at both Ilya’s grin and the whole appearance of the young mystic. "So. Doctor Devorak, Julian, and Asra, just Asra, here because--," a look at the coded remark on paper and a raised brow, "--Very well. Let me show you around."  
As they were lead around high stacks, meek droning about genres and organization reverberating off the high stone walls. Asra cast a curious glance to Julian, as he was called, brief but long enough for the doctor to notice. Then they turned a corner, and the magician fell into step with him once more. “A doctor?” It was more a statement than question, spoken while eyeing a tall wall of aged tomes.  
“An Asra?“ Devorak mimic'd him. Winked. “And a special one, judging by her tone.” Asra bristled, looking as if he was about to respond when the doctor’s attention was diverted by the librarian.

“These will be your desks. Statistics about the ongoing illness...“

“Fine and dandy, but I need a laboratory, not ancient papers.“

“You will have time to discuss your needs when you properly moved into your rooms here, Doctor. Patience please.“

The mystic stepped over to the desk, running fingertips over the surface, violet eyes narrowed, studying the pile of statistics and looking contemplative, not really paying any mind to the other two.  
Things were getting worse by the day. He knew that, felt it in his bones, but still, the city managed to prevent a panic. For a moment, Asra thought he could smell the smoke and ash of the Lazaret again, but he was brought back to the present by a dramatic gesture of the doctor.

  
Devorak was trying his best to charm the librarian, but she got more and more annoyed by his words instead of softening up. “It is not within my competencies, _Doctor_ , and even if it was, we would still follow the correct procedures. You will be taken to your rooms in a few moments, and I will have made sure you stay there until you are ready for work. Do you understand that?“  
“So you're sending me to my room and putting me under arrest?“ He smirked and mumbled something about _a_ _good_ _spanking_ that almost earned him a slap.

Asra just sat on the edge of the desk, returning to poring over the files while the two squabbled. He would look up only when guards appeared, stepping back into the scene. Julian and the librarian looked to the mystic, the both still enraged, caught mid-sentence, guards ready to tackle the doctor. Asra only gave them both a smile.  
“ Our rooms?”  
“ His room. You are free to go and explore the palace until dinner, if that is what you like. You, of course, can also stay and see what the library has to offer.“ She deflated slightly, and corrected the position of her glasses. With a polite nod, still smiling, the magician practically floated away, not bothering to cast a second glance back at the doctor.  
“Fine, fine, it will be a pleasure to join these lovely gentlemen on the way to my rooms. I couldn't wish for more pleasant company, now could I?” As fast as the dark change in Ilya’s mood had come over him, did it leave, and it was back to his pearly white grin.

  
-

 

Asra wandered some distance away from the scene, scanning the book bindings, feeling out the weight of the room. Only after turning several corners did a small serpent slither out from the mystic’s scarf. With a smile, he held up an arm for his familiar, who happily curled her way into his hand. After a look from the snake, the mystic made a face. “I know, but we have to.”  
A tiny split tongue flickered out a few times, before an inquisitive turn of head and small hiss. “ _Friend?_ ”  
A scoff from the magician. “No. Just some sick doctor.” His eyes narrowed again, considering the plague mask. Another blink from the snake. “No, I don’t why, but you’re right. Everything here feels wrong.” The mystic’s eyes wandered the room sadly.  
“We aren’t here to make friends. We have a job to do.” With a nod, the familiar hissed and made its way back into the folds of Asra’s clothing.  
  
In this space, there was some kind of magic, but one that felt off, unnatural like the man-made structures it was caught in. It was easy to get lost if you didn't know just the right paths, and a stream of _wrongness_ permeated the stone walls that held the book shelves around him, ebbing and flowing, pooling, in some center he couldn’t quite locate.

Asra walked along the walls, trying to sense the source of the warped magic, set deep in concentration. Faust had come to hang around his neck, curiously peering around with him. He was being drawn to a precipice, uncertain energy sitting in the palace like old bath water. Fingertips came to rest on a jagged piece of shelving, a strange aberration in the otherwise meticulous room. Just as he could feel a distinctive _pull_ , Faust turned her head before quickly hiding again, just before Asra heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He turned to look, only to see a dark swoosh of cloak turning the corner.  
  
The magician held back a sigh upon realizing that it was only the doctor from before. Somehow he had managed to lose his earlier entourage. Asra turned back to the books, ignoring the other’s presence. With the custody of guards and negative attention the man had received earlier, the fact that he was alone surely meant that someone had made a mistake.  
“Found anything exciting?“

The redhead didn't do him the favor of ignoring him back. If he was aware of how ridiculously out of place he looked in the opulent rooms, he was good in ignoring that, too.  
Violet eyes slowly rose to meet the grey gaze set on him; Asra’s focus was diverted. “Looks like you lost your friends.”  
“ They allowed me to get lost after a rather long-winded explanation that what I would need to see what could be found in these rooms immediately before being taken to my room. I may have been gone a little bit overboard with those requirements, but then, I was just trying to make a point.“ He flashed a slightly guilty grin, met with a keen side eye.  
“Slippery doctor, seems like.”

Asra felt a happy twinge come from Faust at the comment from her spot in his scarf, and he had to suppress a smile in response.  
The magician turned back to the shelving, talking a few steps away from Devorak. After a beat, he slid out a medium sized tome, holding it up for the other. “This might interest you.” It was a book entitled ‘Illnesses & Unbalances of the Respiratory System’.  
Gloved hands took it from him, and he showed a lopsided smile. “I appreciate your concern, but let me assure you that things are under as much control as can be, and will not keep me from giving my best.“ Devorak closed his arms around the book and himself.  
“Good.” A wry smile passed over the mystic’s features. For a moment, he was pensive, looking down the shelf, before looking back to the doctor. “And when that fails, I have a blend of tea I could recommend...?”  
A weary look to Devorak tried to gauge his comfort at the suggestion. The pale face froze, and the _No_ was almost there, but then the bony shoulders just shrugged. “Sure. It probably won't make things worse.“

At that, Asra turned fully to the doctor, letting a small, but authentic smile, crack across his face. “Are you allergic to anything?”  
“Haven't found anything that killed me yet. Believe me, I’ve tried. So you're in for...“ Devorak was searching for some _polite_ words, still not sure about the exact profession of the young man, “... an holistic approach?“  
Violet eyes briefly wore an amused bent, although Asra’s mouth had fallen into a line. “If by ‘holistic’ you mean _magic_ , than yes.” Faust stirred in unease as the magician eyed the doctor curiously. “I’m assuming the Count asked you here?”  
“ _Scared!_ “ His familiar sounded triumphant over words that reassured Asra that yes, the Count, of course, what a big surprise, an unquestionable honor, and yes, of course these were hard times and any path needed to be walked, and “I once knew a woman that considered herself a witch.“ All of a sudden a stillness comes over the doctor, a bad memory perhaps, and he suffocates it with a quick grin. “And so it is _magician_ for you?“  
The snake had come to curl her way down Asra's arm, who held it out for her to slither onto a nearby shelf. She blinked at the doctor, inquisitively, as the young mystic smiled affectionately at her. "Yes, and this is Faust," He looked back to the doctor, "and you're... Dr. Devorak?"  
“The one and only. You may have heard of me.“ The slightest bow.

  
White brows raised, and Asra huffed. Only Faust could perceive his apprehension. "I might have heard of a doctor on the high seas with a 'silver tongue'." Faust was still eyeing the doctor. " _Pirate?_ " she asked, turning her little head around in question.  
"A traveler fallen on hard times, that’s all! Don't you think it preferable to help save lives instead of having your own taken by an unfortunate accident with a saber? You may accuse me of lack of honor, and I will gladly agree, but a lack of reason was never one of my vices. How would you have chosen in my boots, dear Asra? Who should take care of your scaly friend, were you to fall?"

  
The magician's face fell at the question. Looking as if he recalled something, he gazed down, before peering back up to Devorak, crestfallen. "That reminds me, I have something to attend to. Faust?" He said her name just as she made her way back to his arm and into his scarves. "Doctor, if you'll excuse me..." A few hurried steps past the cloaked man, paused just beside him. It took a breath, but Asra met Devorak's gaze once more.

"I... have a small shop in the city proper... Should you need tea for your cough."  
"Julian is fine." There was a sudden softness in his voice. Had he noticed that he hit a target he could impossibly have aimed for? "Do not let me keep you, but I'm afraid we'll be stuck here for a while. At least I will."  
Another pause, and a shift in step as Asra turned to face Julian. "I can bring it to you in a few days?"  
"Probably won't be going anywhere."

Asra studied the way the doctor's hands twisted in the air as he spoke, before looking him in the eyes again. "Alright, _Julian_ . In three days, at your desk?"  
"By all chances, I'll be chained to it until then." A mask that had been lowered for a little while was put back on, but still not quite there. "But please, don't take any trouble for it."

"The Count will be wanting a few things from the shop anyway, so... I won't be." Another casual smile, somehow sad, passed over Asra's face. He took a few steps finally, calling out over his shoulder as he turned away. "See you soon."  
"Sure." Julian mumbled, arms wrapping around the book again, stifling a cough. What had the strange boy and his snake done to incite Lucio's interest? He was only too aware what it was in himself, still wondering why he ended up in the palace instead of in immediate and direct contact with the infected. A former lover maybe, or one Lucio wanted for his collection of exotic and rare breeds and couldn't get any other way? This Asra seemed a rare and strange bird indeed. _Magical..._

-

  
  
The door to the shop creaked open, dark and empty.  
Faust was already on her way in as Asra gestured to the lanterns scattered about, a warm glow cast around the front. With a sigh, he walked in, shutting the door behind him. It was an odd relief to be back there, at least after the past day in the palace. He had seen Lucio briefly, or at least been in the same room as him, and had his list of required items. Bitter hate dwelled in his gut, twisting up his insides, and the young mystic had to take a deep breath, trying to urge away the sickly energy from the palace that clung to him like a film of oil to a dying fish.  
Faust disappeared up the stairs, just before Asra made it a point to light up the room for her there as well. He wasn’t ready to retire yet, as tired as he was from the walk back. Looking at one of the crystals on the shelf, he considered wandering out again as he so often did, outside, or maybe to a separate plane, anywhere but the living area. Violet eyes came to rest on the several jars of herbs lining the back counter. _There_ _was_ _that_ _sick_ _doctor_.  
“Faust, I’m going to be in the front for a bit.” He called casually, trying not to focus on the stillness of the space.  
" _Lonely?_ " she asked, not quite clear if she thought he was or asked if he wanted to be..  
Asra smiled to himself, straining. “ _No_ , I just remembered about the tea for the sick doctor.”  
He made his way behind the counter. Faust was there, staring at him. “What?”

  
She glided across his hand, wrapped herself around his forearm, the closest she gave to hugs. " _Empty_." and a brief impression of hands holding her, hands that weren't cinnamon and old scars.  
Asra’s breath caught in his chest, eyes welling up with tears as he regarded his familiar. With a huff, he blinked them away. “I know,” the mystic breathed sadly. It took him far too much effort to block out the memories. Of creaking floor boards upstairs in the morning, and the warmth that grew in his chest as he knew he could bury his face into tousled hair shortly after. Of skin and light and lips and...  
He looked to the Count’s list, on the counter.  
“I’m going to fix things.”  
" _Why?_ " It was the first time she asked that. Carefully added a " _New_ _skin_?"  
After a moment’s consideration, Asra brightened slightly. “Yes, like you.” He smiled warmly at the snake. He looked at the list, the herbs, then the door.

“Want to go for a walk, Faust?” She made her way around his shoulders, giving him a confirmation. He inhaled deeply as he made his way to the door, the lights going out at once, save but one. It was upstairs, seen from the street as Asra closed the door behind him.  
The night was cool and pleasant, as night should be, but after only a few steps, the long body twisted nervously. Her little head appeared here, appeared there, forked tongue flicking eagerly.  
“Are you okay?” The mystic peered down at her in concern. “Should we go back?”  
She kept moving steadily now, her body running down his leg in one liquid motion. “ _See!_ _Must!_ "  
“Where? What?” Asra’s tone was unusually concerned in response to the behavior of his familiar.  
Like a little gust of snow, she disappeared in the darkness. “ _Wait!_ "  
“Faust, what is it?” He tried to follow after her, but lost sight of her quickly. Sighing, he let his eyes shut, trying to sense her. “Faust?” He tried verbally, before subtly more psychically.  
A tiny bright dot in his mind told him she was still alive, very much so, but trying to shield her presence from whatever it was she had seen. A couple walked past him, arm in arm, obviously undisturbed by whatever was happening in the shades.  
_What_ _is_ _it?_

He tried to reach out to her, taking a few casual steps in her last direction.  
Nothing.  
Not even foreboding silence, just the normal noises the evening brought. In the distance, someone was singing, and not very good.

Asra continued onward, blinking curiously into the darkness. The singing continued louder, and the young magician made the slightest face, still on alert due to the otherwise silence from his familiar.  
It didn't take long for her to return. She curled up at his feet, fully expecting to be lifted up into his robes where it was warm and pleasant.  
Relief passed over Asra's features as he moved to scoop up the snake, bringing her tightly to his chest, where she quickly moved to hang off of him beneath his layers. He doubled back, uneasy at the way she had made it a point to mask herself before. It didn't bode well, and he found himself making his way back to the shop, trying to peek down at her. _What_ _did_ _you_ _see_?

Her scaled body laid still against him like she sometimes did on very cold days, draped directly under his shirt as he made his way back to the door. Bringing a protective hand over his chest where she laid, he could feel the chill on her. Frowning, he unlocked the key to the door of the shop. Lanterns coming on as quick as they had went out before, he tried to rouse her. "Faust?" The snake shifted, but paused.  
She didn’t move, a twinge of indignation radiating. Asra’s eyes narrowed in consideration, before moving to a far drawer toward the back of the shop. Placing a palm over the front of it, the door breathed slightly before opening. He pulled out a cute, but quite dead mouse by its tail, perfectly preserved, enchanted fur glittering in the lamplight. He tried a smile. “Please?” Worry lined his eyes. Red eyes followed his movements expectantly.

  
-

  
  
She had refused to tell him, in the end.  
The morning after next saw Asra back at the palace, earlier than intended due to the growing unease that sat in his gut the longer he stayed around the stillness of the shop. A few minutes of meditation made up for the four total hours of sleep he had seen, so when he found himself passing the ornate gates again, Asra tried his best to be aware. He saw to Lucio first, who was surprisingly jovial for someone that had coerced every party around him to be present. The mystic ended up lingering in an attempt to explain to a hapless servant how to prepare a salve before ending up agreeing to come back later to do it himself. The idea of having to get back for it didn’t help with his fatigue, and he nearly passed the door to the library entirely, mind already plotting trails and paths in other realms far away from the Count and courtiers. He felt the tea he had prepared in his pocket like a warm loaf of bread all of a sudden. Ginger, clove and cardamom with some licorice and eucalyptus, with the appropriate ward cast. It wasn't a lot, but the bag in his pocket demanded to be given to the one it was made for, and so he doubled back into the library.

  
It didn't take Asra long to find the doctor at his desk. He was entirely enveloped in a sizable book and several files, not looking up when the mystic drew near. He looked about as tired as Asra felt.  
The small, but aromatic bundle, dropped right into Julian's line of sight.  
A nose that he himself probably would describe as _delicate_ or _full_ _of_ _character_ sniffed, and he took it with pointy fingers. "So, this is the quintessence of Asra's magical skills? Even though I have to admit I had things that smelled way worse."

The magician snorted. "If you're putting that much trust in it, I'd say you've failed as a doctor." A small pause, looking away.

 

A little, somehow bitter silence before Devorak answered.

"Well, Asra. Thank you for your time and your tea. I don't want to keep you from your research."  
Violet eyes slid shut and he came to rest a hip on the edge of the desk. With a deep sigh, the white haired young man let his head hang loose on his neck before stiffening back up to face the doctor. "I'm sorry, I haven't slept." Asra looked apologetic, trying to meet Julian's gaze. "Besides, I meant to ask..." He trailed off, yawning.

"If I have something to help you with that? But of course." Julian laid aside his quill.

Keeping a casual lean on the edge of the desk, Asra took a glance over the documents and illustrations that covered it's surface. Most of it was plague related, which was to be expected, but then other things were there too, war records, inventories, lists of casualties- "Have you found anything?"

"Fairytales and depression, nothing more. They told me they would have a lab and willing, well, specimens, ready for me very soon now, and I do hope they are right. Has the fresh air outside brought you some new ideas?

Asra blinked hard at the word 'specimens' but shrugged it off, taking another look at Julian before turning his attention to a book of anatomical illustrations. Without looking up at the doctor, the magician replied, soft and low, "Lucio doesn't want to cure the plague. He wants to defeat it." He paused, looking off, "Something more than tea" and then cast a look to the doctor "or medicine and..." Asra sighed again, fatigued exhaustion in his tone, rolling over the edge to face away, "... I can't sleep. So no, nothing as of yet." A heavy weight hung in the air.

"How long has this insomnia been part of your nights?" For the first time, the doctor looked up from his books, dark circles under his eyes himself.

 

Asra looked over his shoulder and for the first time during their exchange did they actually see each other, the mystic turning to face Julian in full again. In only under three days at most, the both of them managed to look as if they hadn't slept in weeks. "Hm, two months," since he returned, and the letters started coming, and - "What about you?"

"I rarely give myself the time to sleep enough. You know how it is. Do as I say, don't do as I do." A little smirk. "Was there an _incident_ two months ago or did it just start out of the blue?"

Just as the faintest smile wanted to sneak across Asra's lips at the doctor's smirk, his mood dropped at Julian's question. Looking at him hard briefly, the magician's mouth fell into a line.

 

Anger almost welled to the surface, quickly being washed away by despair. "I lost someone." Asra nearly whispered with the vaguest of shrugs hiding tightly constrained emotion, as if to gesture to the Plague.  
"I'd rather not talk about it."

Julian nodded. "I'm sorry. Do you have an hour after lunch so I can give you a quick checkup before I administer anything?" For the first time, he sounded professional, distant even.  
" _Sad_." Faust commented.

The mystic blinked, taking a moment to focus on Devorak again. "Sure. Oh, and the tea. Steep it for five minutes. There should be enough for 10 cups," another pause, "Where after lunch?"  
"Let's meet in the gardens. Do you know the fountain with the golden mermaid? The one you shouldn't show to kids and prudes?"

Asra smirked briefly. "I know of it. We'll meet there?"

"In the hope the sun gleaming on voluptuous curves gleaming in the sun will not blind us, yeah. Should be lonely enough at the time of the day."

 

Pre-emptively wincing, he nodded, finally pushing away from the desk. "Thank you, _Julian_." Asra overemphasized teasingly, poking through the doctor's professionalism.

"You still are free to visit the world outside?" Dark eyebrows raised. "It would make things easier."

"Why?" He gave the doctor a questioning look, before vaguely smirking again.  "What do you need me to get for you?"

"In that case, I can give you a _prescription_ instead of making do with the things I can find here. You want sleep without dreams, probably? Just to get away from it all for a few hours?"

Asra looked uncomfortable, thinking about the bed back in the shop. "Ideally."

"Any allergies you know of?"

He shook his head, palms on the desk as he leaned again, blinking blearily.

"And of course you already have tried different things. Anything with any effect?"

"About as effective as what's been done for your cough." Asra quipped, before biting back another sigh after the comment, coming around the desk to sit on the surface just beside Julian. "I've tried everything I can." His voice fell low and soft again, nearly urgent.

"And as with my cough, you never know how bad it would be without all the things you tried. The eternal mystery of both our trades." The doctor sounds mellow himself, long days and lack of success slowly drowning out his usual dramatics. "See you soon, Asra. Let's at least try to be productive."

"Right." And with a nod, the magician finally pulled away from the desk, making his way lazily walking out of the library.

 

-

 

The next few hours would pass by in a relative haze for the magician, who honestly couldn't tell if he preferred the manic bustle of the palace or the deathly stillness of the shop. He took to searching through the halls and into rooms that held pockets of positive energy, not yet affected by the slowly growing sense of doom that had begun to sweep Vesuvia. It brought him to so many backrooms, servants quarters, empty parlors, mostly to the attention of a few attendees left whispering about the mystic after he had departed.

By the time lunch had rolled around, Asra had taken to hiding in the gardens, in a tree that Faust had found. Within view of the predetermined fountain, he waited, nearly napping on a branch. Sleep was _so_ _close_ , but every time he let his eyes shut for too long, he could see the black smoke go up against a darkened sky. His familiar dangled above head as he sighed, finally noting a dark figure approach the otherwise sunny display.

The gardens were lovely at that time of year, lush and full of life, the sun shining directly on a well endowed statue of a naked siren, or something sat between her legs, surrounded by trellis with flowers in full bloom, reds and pinks and yellows that complimented the garish fountain.

 

Before the doctor could wait for long, the magician approached him, Faust not far behind.

"She's impressive, isn't she? A lot of anatomy in all places. You decided to skip the offerings of the kitchen today?"

Julian had brought a little leather satchel with him, together with the air of drama of his billowing coat.

"Did I miss something?"

"Just the usual lavish banquet. Well. Scraps from the Count's table, but it's still better than what I usually can afford, so... yes. If you take an interest in such things. Do you?"

Asra looked to the fountain, vaguely shrugging. "Sometimes. Not today."

He was too tired.

"Shall we go over into the shade?" A nod towards a small gazebo with a bench and a table in it, so that a willing visitor could have their tea and enjoy the view on the piece of art at the same time.

Not having to be asked twice, the magician made his way over as the doctor trailed behind him. Sliding onto the bench, he draped an arm over the back and crossed a leg. Faust trailed behind Devorak, making her way around a railing behind him as he ascended a set of stairs.

"Have you eaten today at all?" Julian sat down on the table instead of the bench, just to get a good look at his new patient.

"Of course."

He hadn't.

"So, what was for breakfast?" It was the first time that the grey eyes seemed _friendly_.

Asra met his gaze only to look away. " _I_ had an apple."

"You of course are aware that you need the energy, especially in trying times like these. I understand if you don't have much of an appetite, but what I may mix up for you isn't necessarily friendly to your stomach."

 

Julian opened the satchel. A silver pocket watch, as large as the palm of his hand, from a time before the jewelers could make their designs intricate enough to make them smaller.

"Have you tried your tea yet?"

Purple still stared off into the distance.

"It wasn't as bad as I expected. Rather nice, actually, even though it worked no wonders for the cough, if that is what it's supposed to do."

Asra peeked at the doctor out of the corner of his eye, before a small smile made its way across his face. "That's because there's a second part." He sat upright, facing the doctor. Gestured him over. "Come here."

"We're not here because of me, young man." A little smirk.

"Alright, _Doctor_." A sly eyeroll, as Asra stood from his seat with slight tilt to his chin.

Devorak opened his watch and stretched out his hand. "Your wrist please, or do you prefer the throat?"

Blinking evenly, face passive, the mystic answered.

"Throat." Before being asked, he took a step toward the doctor.

Two warm fingers soon found his pulse, and Julian counted silently.

"Any irregularities you noticed except for the insomnia?"

"No, nothing."

 

He didn't notice the way Asra leaned forward as he counted. Taking a breath, he brought a hand up and patted the doctor on his chest. "Also, _thank you_." At that, Julian felt a quick and intense pain in his lungs that quickly cooled. The magician dropped his hand as the doctor proceeded to produce a hard gargle that developed into one hard cough enough to make the man nearly drop his watch. The hand at Asra's throat had fallen to his shoulder as Julian shuddered. "The ward's been activated now. That should have gotten the most of it."

 

The doctor spit, something dark mixed into the saliva, and stared at it while wiping his mouth with a sleeve. "The hells did you just do?" It sounded wretched and angry.

"Helping you get rid of your cough!"

Faust had made her way in, curling around a support beam in the gazebo. " _Angry!_ " Asra looked to her and back to the doctor. "I see that."

Devorak's face froze. "Very well then. Without a diagnosis, or even asking if _I_ have one to share. Just rip something out and see where it gets you." He tried to straighten up, but fell into a new fit of coughs that brought tears to his eyes.

"It..." The mystic tried to wait out the coughing. "It should dispel whatever is..." At another wave of coughing, Asra's face actually fell. "It should work for a few weeks." He managed to finish, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry."

A glob of black and yellow pus landed in the carefully styled grass, and the doctor shortly after it, his knees too weak to remain upright. "And you'll do it again, because that's your way of working, right?"

 

Asra caught the doctor in his arm as he stumbled, guiding him to sit on the bench. "I didn't think it would hit you so hard. Usually it just..." He trailed off, thinking of another person during a different time, and his jaw only gaped for a few moments. The doctor huffed at him, and he withdrew his arms from the man's shoulders, blinking back to the present. "It doesn't do that."

"That's why--" A deep, forced breath, "-- you ask about treatments. Medication. And don't just screw around on unknown territory."

"I was trying to help." The words sounded empty before they even exited Asra's lips. They sat, Devorak wheezing for several long moments, before the mystic looked to him. "We're both... trying to cure the plague." The magician drew up a knee, leaning on it. His tone was truer now, but not quite enough. "I obviously can't do it alone." He inhaled deeply, trying to meet the heavy lidded grey gaze. Julian looked off, and Asra moved to follow his field of vision. " _Help me_."

 

The pale cheeks were already flushed by the strain, but seemed to get even redder under his words. The doctor seemed torn between anger and the inner need to _help_ , and the latter got the better of him. "Go down to the harbor, and find a woman called Vaishali. She's got a shop there, specializing in exotic goods. Tell her your problem, and that Ilya sent you. When she asks for the time, you tell her _Thursday night_. You think you can remember that?"

“Ilya?”

The name rolled off Asra’s tongue with ease.

“Secret identities. Everybody should have at least one.“ His grin was back again, but not heartfelt.

“Is that my _prescription_?” White brows raised, trying a smile back. Neither of their expressions felt authentic, but they at least were trying.

“She's the pharmacist I trust. An important person to have.“

Asra nodded, looking off to the fountain. It shone peacefully in the afternoon sun. “I know you might not be up for it, but try to keep drinking the tea. It _will_ help.”

“I understand that you were trying to do what a barber does when pulling teeth or setting bones. Surprise them before the can tense up even more. Just... don't do it again with me, okay?“

Purple flickered back to grey. A small smile broke across the magician’s face and he held out a hand to shake on it, before holding it up. “I won’t. I promise,” he set his hand out again. If the doctor looked hard enough, he’d notice the cheeky bent in Asra’s eye. “Unless you ask.”

"I doubt I will." Still, Julian took his hand and shook it. Not forgiven and forgotten, but at least not a reason for war anymore.

Asra squeezed his hand gently, and again, it was like being able to see the other man after through a trudging through a haze. “Thank you, Ilya.”

"We don't know each other well enough for that. That's something for a time when having shared beds and adventures." A roguish grin that was way more vital than before.

Asra’s eyes widened and he blinked, a mess of options presenting themselves to him in an instant. With a deep breath, he cleared the air of them but the doctor had already withdrawn, sitting back before standing up, but the magician couldn’t get his mind to focus as they said goodbye and parted ways.

It wasn’t until Faust approached him after Julian had left that Asra could gather his thoughts. He only shook his head to himself before smiling at her.

 

-

 

Two days later finally found Asra in at the shop, in bed.

Sure enough, it barely took the name ‘Ilya’ to convince Vaishali he was sincere, so it hadn’t been nearly as difficult to secure his prescription as he anticipated. A small vial with a small written precaution scribbled across it with an eye dropper. Two drops promised a deep, dreamless sleep. Regardless, he had still prepared tea with the usual charm, just in case it turned out to be poison. Faust watched him carefully the whole time, even after he assured her it was for the best.

Just as he took the first sip, the way the shop owner’s eyes had softened when he had mentioned the doctor, ‘Ilya’, came to mind. The magician sighed inwardly, considering the warmth that had gone into the rest of their exchange, and back to the stupid grin the man had given him when they last saw each other.

Somehow, Asra was relieved, exhaustion finally pulling him down as he got midway through his cup. Again, the name crossed his mind, and the magician finally downed the rest of the tea, setting the cup down beside the bed. Almost too quickly, his eyes slid shut, mind still stuck on the glint in the doctor’s gaze.

 

-

 

At first, it was blissfully silent, and dark. Nothing stretched on in all directions. It was incredible in its emptiness. But too soon, it was dawn, and Asra was there, blinking closed eyes into window light that was really just the sun shining on the gazebo.

Julian sat with him. Went to grab his hand and-

He woke up in bed next to the doctor.

“We might be a bit late. They're waiting for us,“ the redhead mumbled, voice heavy with sleep himself, and not sounding like he particularly  cared about _anyone_ waiting.

“Hn,” Asra didn’t move. As sure as he could feel the warmth of the sun, peeking through curtains, on his skin, the edges of his vision still felt dark somehow. Close to wakefulness, but not enough. A purple gaze blinked lazily, trying to remember what he had dreamt the night before, but found the curve of the doctor’s waist in the tangled sheets around them instead, facing the man’s back. Without regard, the magician brought a palm over the exposed skin, smooth under his touch. What had he been dreaming about?

A moment of blissful silence passed, nothing but the soft intake of air settling into the room. Asra privately pouted, before finding his mouth playing with a word on the tip of his tongue-

“Ilya.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?“ Gentle mockery in a voice that felt so very trusted, without Asra being able to recall the exact where- and whenabouts. Those, too, on the tip of his tongue, or rather, his mind.

The magician felt as if he was watching himself as a palm slid down and gripped the pale hip before him, pulling the lengthy body over. Asra buried his face into red hair, humming a contented affirmation. He was so _warm_ , his hair smelled like the old parchment of the library stuck with sweat and the enchanted smoke that lingered in the shop. He didn’t want to move. But something was still _there_ , on the edge of his mind, a nagging.

“Shall we climb out of the window? Maybe we can get away just like that. Or hide in here all day?“

The lean body slowly turned so the redhead could lie on his back, eyes still closed. His little smile was full of bliss.

“We could just fake our deaths. Run away.” Asra smirked a response, although instantly struck with an unexpected weight in his chest. Then, it dawned on him. “Ilya, I just realized...”

Julian peeked a look, before the magician brought an affectionate hand to the doctor’s cheek. Turning to look at Asra in full, the mystic leaned in slowly, long eyelashes fluttering as they neared. Just as he could feel the doctor’s breath on his lips, Asra stopped.

 

“I’m dreaming.”

 

Then the sun went out.

 

Asra was surrounded by blissful nothingness.

  


 


	2. Chapter 2

Days later, Devorak's life had changed for the worse. He had gotten his lab, and his specimens, and he had gotten to meet his superior. For the first time in his life, he had a _craving_ for sunlight and fresh air. The things they were doing were things that needed to be done, that's what they all told themselves, and hadn't he seen worse in the Lazaret?

It was beautiful here, and filled with luxuries, and even the countess gave him a smile when she saw him. Well, she saw him after Lucio pointed and grinned, undoubtedly saying something very  _ funny _ , at least in his own mind, and Ilya cursed the heat rising in his ears. Bowed theatrically instead and left before they could call for him. Hid in the library then, trying to forget the magnificent creature that Nadia was. People like her, embodiments of perfection, made it even harder to see what became of those not so fortunate. This time, he wouldn't be too busy to-- he buried his head in his arms and groaned.

  
  


Meanwhile, the magician had been sleeping much better. Dreamless nights accompanied a stretch of good weather, and it was all nearly enough to make Asra forget the impending urgency that had settled throughout the city as he drew closer to the palace.

Hehad been assessing the nature of the Count’s affliction for weeks, trying a gamut of enchantments and charms ranging from rudimentary to highly advanced. Nothing has stuck, until recently. An exorcism of a source of putrid energy lingering on Lucio’s missing arm. They had performed it several days ago. Lucio’s health has quickly improved, he nearly seemed himself the day before yesterday, and he was back in to the assess the Count’s progress to--

Instead, Asra ended up getting screamed at. The exorcism has failed.

The look of disappointed rage from Lucio hadn’t been nearly as bad as the look of sorrowful dread that crossed the Countess’ elegant features as Lucio’s voiced bounced off stone, sharp and incessant.

  
  


The magician found himself circling the halls, listless, before finally deciding on making his way into the library. Not that Asra had been avoiding it, exactly, but _something_ was just compelling him to stay away from the space and the monochromatic doctor, helpful as he had been. Perhaps his tea also failed, and Devorak was just as much doomed as...

After wandering the stacks for way too long, the magician finally turned the corner before the desk, hearing a groan. He leaned on a shelf some paces away.

“Doctor.”

"Feel like ripping something out again?" It sounded vaguely hopeful, if muffled through the fabric of his jacket and the book his face was lying on.

“Did it help the last time?”

It might be a more hopeful sounding inquiry than a sardonic one, but it was hard to tell.

“I'm not dead yet. Professional opinion.“

Asra straightened, before slowly approaching the doctor’s desk. He looked down at the mess of auburn hair on the desk and ignored the strange twinge of familiarity he felt pass through him.

“Your prescription worked, by the way. So thank you.”

One grey eye peered up to him. “Did you doubt it? No, don't answer. Let's just pretend we're successful in all we do.“

“And lately?”

“Um... I'm... working on it. Great ideas take their time, and Prakra wasn't built in a day... and you?“

The magician turned away, as what was almost bashfulness crept into his demeanor. “If you would call getting screamed at by Lucio an accomplishment, then things are going well.”

"He only screamed? He really must like you then, or you've done something right."

Asra spied the tall windows of the room, noting how musty it all was, compared to the way the sun shone that morning as he entered the palace. “When was the last time you were outside?”

"I slept... twice in the lab since I went down there, and once in my bed, but I'm not exactly following well regulated schedules, if you mean that. At night, some time ago, that's the best estimate I can give." He tried to sit up and look lofty again. Managed the first, failed the second. An ink smear on his cheek ruined his effort.

Asra smirked at the sight before leaning onto the desk, raising a brow. “Vaishali asked me to give you this,” The magician pulled out a small but weighted box wrapped in brown paper from a scarf, placing it down far more gently than the tea he had brought the last time.

“I would have brought it to you sooner but... it’s been busy.”

They stared at each other, Asra expectant. Julian just met his gaze plainly, picking up the box and pocketing it away. The magician sighed, before tilting his head slightly.

“Want to go for a walk?”

  
  


-

  
  


From the way Devorak met the sun with a cringe as they exited into the gardens, Asra could tell it had been far too long since the man had seen the light of day. It was still beautiful outside, highlighting all of the over the top flora that had been arranged throughout the pathway leading out onto the grounds. The pair made their way opposite that of the scandalous fountain, both still sulking rather than walking. The magician looked to the doctor, concern etched into the corners of eyes and lips, and blinked away. The same hit of familiarity, intimate and quiet, struck him again. They walked in silence for a time, the sinking feeling settling in. Just as the mood had dropped entirely, with a stir of scarves, Faust peeked out by white hair. " _ Flowers! _ " And she was off, making her way down his leg and into a rather obnoxious arrangement. "Be careful!" he called after her, before turning to Julian.

"It's very... loud." Asra tried, the compliment failing.

"Loud?" An irritated gaze. " _Screaming in agony to be devoured by a merciful goat_ might be more accurate. You're not quite into Lucio's preferences?" A gloved hand broke a rose with veined petals from its stem so the doctor could take a closer look. Smell it, and place it in his locks with utmost care.

Asra vaguely raised a brow in response, but stifled a smile wanting to spread across his face as the rose sat perfectly in place after the doctor left it. It was white and red, offsetting the color of Julian's hair. "Lucio's preferences aside, at least that one suits you." It was an offhand comment, said before Asra squatted down to look for his familiar. After a moment, he stood back up, tucking a set of irises into white hair. They matched his eyes. "And?" The magician slowly grinned to Julian.

"We should make it a crown for you. May I?" The doctor questioned, holding out a hand. 

Asra was almost taken aback, giving Julian a questioning look. "You know how? I mean, go ahead..."

The redhead beamed and started grazing the surroundings for fitting materials. Some ivy here, some small red blossoms there, and he simply sat down in the grass when he was content. Stretched out a hand to Asra, no, for the flowers in his hair, and started braiding and crafting and weaving, all focused on the task at hand, the gaunt face suddenly more that of a boy than that of a man.

His entire energy had changed, shifted, from a leaden heaving to weightless luminance. Passing Julian the irises, the mystic found himself sitting beside him, watching the doctor in fascination. "Not really a skill you expect from a doctor."

"I pride myself on having quite a few of those. You never know what might come in handy." He pinched one eye and grinned. "I can also mend socks, in case you were wondering."

Asra shrugged, just as Faust exited the display and made her way back over to them. She radiated contentment, probably full on a few bugs, coming to stop to watch Julian as well. Between his companion's joy and his familiar's contentment, the magician couldn't help it, he smiled,  _ really  _ smiled, and for the first time in months he was just  _ happy _ .

“It's been a while since I made one of these. The first ones were nothing to write home about, but Pasha insisted I keep trying, so by now...“  Julian turned the wreath in his hands and added more blossoms, “they're decent, don't you think? Nothing for royal heads, perhaps, at least not in this court, but a beautiful face doesn't need diamonds and emeralds to shine.“

  
  


The wreath was incredible, given what he had to work with, hints of magenta to offset added the warmth in the irises, deep green foliage, and shades of blue. Asra had taken to watching on in fascination, white brow only raised at the unknown name and remained as such at the doctor’s last comment. Again, the overwhelming sense of intimacy overcame the magician again, and he blinked away the urge to lean into the other.

“Who?”

“Mh? Oh--,“ the doctor blinked. Blushed then, as he thought about carelessly escaped words. “Just somebody from my past. We learned a lot together. Went on great big adventures. You surely do know the type.“ He thoughtfully turned the wreath in his hands, lost in memories for a moment that brought a little smile on his lips, “Those were different times.“

A sullenness fell over the mystic. "I do know the type." Faust made her way over to him then, wrapping herself around Asra's forearm in her approximation of a hug.

"Well, this should fit nicely. Hold still." A nervous  twitch flickered over Julian's face as he lifted the flower crown onto the platinum locks and carefully placed it, Asra’s eyes sliding shut. Julian pushed it down a little to fix it in place. Nodded. "Feels secure?"

Violet fluttered open to meet grey. Breath fell short, chest tight. Asra smiled as Julian looked away. “How does it look?”

"Like you should make it a staple of your wardrobe. Just my opinion as a professional. I mean, you can probably count it as aromatherapy if you use the right herbs?"

Asra gestured to the wreath. “It already has an energy to it, actually. Based on the feelings you imbued it with when you made it. About  _ Pasha _ .” he explained, ending cheekily. “It’s already useful.”

“ _ Pretty! _ ”  Faust chirped. He giggled to her “Thank you.”

"Ah. And what feeling might those be, oh mighty magician?" From one moment to the other, the walls around Julian that had allowed him in were up again, high and adorned with spikes.

Asra flinched, scooting to sit back. “... Happiness. Warmth. ... Love. It’s kind of like a... smell that lingers.” He picked it off of his head, looking down to admire the elegant floral arrangement.

"Hrm. Did a skill like this ever get you into trouble? Invading into people's privacy just like that, because you can?"

“How could it be private when it’s so obvious?” Asra asked in earnest, blinking up at the doctor. “Look, it’s practically woven into it. Some are just more sensitive than others.”

"You don't spend too much time with mere mortals, do you?" The redhead cringed.

Asra gaped. Faust looked between the two. With a sigh, he turned his head away. “I guess not.” Another moment passed and the mystic fell pensive.

"Guess it's hard to see them as anything else than bundles of... whatever you see them as?" Again, it was Julian trying to save things, to make excuses for little things that hurt him.

“ It’s not  _ seeing  _ as much as it is  _ feeling _ .” Asra continued to eye the wreath.

"Can you tell me more about it?"

This piqued the magician’s interest. “Oh,” brows raised as he looked up to the doctor. Asra sat up, on his knees to be closer to Julian. “May I?” The magician held out the crown, holding it over the red head of hair tentatively.

"If it helps the cause?" Julian eyed him with curiosity. It was nice to have a willing specimen for once.

  
  


The crown was sat down on his head. Not nearly as complimentary as it had been on the magician, it was still a welcome streak of color that softened the doctor’s look. Very gently, Asra brushed a fingertip across Julian’s temple. “Close your eyes?”

He did, slowly and hesitantly. "Can you explain to me what you do while you do it?"

“ Yes, but it won’t be so much what  _ I _ ’ ll be doing, but what I’m helping you do.” Asra cleared his throat, the odd sensation of their closeness feeling tangible. “I’m just putting my hand on your face,” his voice was soft, letting his hand come to rest over the doctor’s cheek, palm against bone. “And now try to take a deep breath...”

Asra could feel it, the smallest bit of magic that sat inside the doctor. However, he wasn’t about to explain this to this man who was sure to panic and withdraw Asra’s access to it. He waited for Julian to relax, hoping to allow him to sense the joy encased in the blossoms.

The doctor slightly shifted his head to lean into the touch and at least seemed to  _ try  _ to follow the mage's plea. Little drops of sadness formed on a surface of vague distrust like droplets of water on cold glass. He felt  _ lonely _ .

The magician could sense it just beneath the skin, not expecting the depth of the emotion as the doctor progressively opened up, reflecting the same cold feeling that sat inside him. He had been mistaking a pond for a puddle, and nearly regretted the closeness. However, quickly, Asra gathered himself before he could fall into the pit of Julian’s emotions.

“Just here,” a small tap against his temple, “try to feel warmth, it’s there... just...” The magician trailed off, subtlety channeling the doctor’s energy with his own, avoiding the cool loneliness like a guide in a snowstorm. He could see the doctor’s closed eyes squinting in effort. Asra placed his other hand on his shoulder, in an effort to be comforting. This was proving to be more draining than anticipated, for the both of them. “Try to focus on the way it sits on your head, the way the stems are woven in and the energy they give off.” A sting of sadness struck the both of them, unsure of who caused it, and Asra found himself give a slight brush of his thumb against the doctor’s cheek. The mystic’s voice sounded a little rushed as he continued. “There’s joy and thought and care, just sitting there, waiting to wash over you, if you allow it to.”

The last phrase hung in the air, and Asra hadn’t quite realized how he held his breath, leaning onto the doctor.

  
  


All of a sudden, Julian winced. Opened gray eyes that were a little too shiny, a little too moist. Tried one of his standard grins he seemed to consider perfect for almost any circumstance.

"This is nice and surely calming, but I don't think it is for me. Same with the whole positive thinking and the--"  _ Happiness  _ a little voice inside him ended the sentence, and his voice just trailed off while he carefully took off the wreath. "And this is yours anyway."

Asra felt the connection slip away, and the sudden lack of another hit him almost sidelong with its suddenness. It left him sitting up on his knees in the grass, numb, flower crown dangling innocently in the gloved grip before him. “Right.” Asra shrugged, gently plucking the wreath from the doctor’s hand.

It still radiated warmth, although it seemed very far away again in that instant. The mystic stood, Faust exiting his vest to hang from his neck. “Thank you, for this.” He held up the flower crown, giving it another look before plopping it back onto his head and smiling a smile that almost reached his eyes.

"Take what sweetness you find in it, for me there is... just too much worry, these days. And it really suits you, trust me at least in this." The doctor’s grin weakened, but stayed.

Asra held back a sigh, a blush, something that sat in his gut and twisted, mouth falling into a line. He nodded, looking off, back to the palace.

“Lucio is probably looking for one of us.”

"Thank you for your time, and the sun. If you ever feel the need to drag me out again, I probably won't seriously try to stop you."

It felt like Devorak wanted to add something, but did not. Got up instead, and started to pick little blades of grass from black fabric.

  
  


The magician indeed  _ knew  _ Lucio would be looking for one of them and was on his way, and that he needed to be  _ elsewhere _ , not here, not in this realm, with the joy and the sadness and the lonely doctor and angry count. “I’ll be sure to.” A quick smile back to the doctor, and like the times before that, Asra walked away plainly before another word could be spoken.

He continued along the gardens, ducking in and out of the maze, watching Faust move about by his feet as he walked. After enough time he put some distance between him and the nearest human voice. In a clearing, past several rows of trees and shrubbery, was a fountain partially covered by a grand tree. It was quiet, so quiet, a gentle breeze the only thing to reach the magician. The only other sound to be heard was the water cascading down from the glistening form of Capricornus. It was surprisingly tasteful.

Asra sighed a deep sigh of relief.

He found himself sitting on the edge of the fountain, staring off into the rippling water. Faust hung in the accompanying tree, content to watch him from there.

He hated the palace. No, it wasn’t the space, or the over the top decor, or the buildings, or gardens. It wasn’t the staff, or guards, or even the long suffering doctor.

It was Lucio. Always. Ruining everything, showing up and demanding attention. Threatening to destroy everything. _Destroying everything. Like the one person that_ -

The heavy pang of sadness from before hit him again, and it was then he knew what had struck him and the doctor before was in fact, his fault. Faust whined, sensing his distress. He caught himself again, and looked to her.

With a smirk in her direction, he pulled at the air like a string midair, the flow of water sprouting into a jet that Asra blew into a mist, sunlight tossing a rainbow into the air. “ _ Pretty! _ ”  his familiar chirped, and he smiled at her affectionately, before looking back to the stalled flow of water.

It was then he caught his reflection in the fountain, the flower crown still sitting on top of his head. It was indeed  _ lovely _ , perfectly complementing Asra’s the colors that his hull wore. There, alone, the mystic allowed himself to blush, water splashing down again, disrupting his reflection.

There was another, underlying, energy to the blossoms, that Asra had avoided giving words to before that point.

  
  


_ Attraction.  _ The same intimacy that rang so familiar to the magician, over and over again.

He frowned, taking off the wreath. Faust shifted, and a brow raised to the snake. “It 

_ is  _ valuable, you’re right.”

Asra’s face turned into an expression of utter content as he looked into the pool of water, running his hand along the surface. “Faust, will you be alright if I go visit some friends?” She blinked at him, and gave him a tiny nod. The water began to glow faintly. She dropped, moving toward him again. “ _ Wait _ !” It took Asra aback, and he paused, looking to her.

“What is it?”

She tilted her head questioningly. He laughed. “I don’t know where the doctor is, but you could find him if you want to. He’s been more helpful than he knows.”

Faust radiated happiness as the magician held up the wreath to the water. The soft glow grew brighter. As if held to a flame, the blossoms caught, burning up in a pale gold light, a portal opening up.

A moment later, he stood up on the edge. “I’ll be back soon.”

Giving a smile and a tiny wave to his familiar, he walked off, falling straight into the water and disappearing into the hazy glow that soon faded.

  
  


_ Silly little Asra. All important, forgetting food. Again. _

Faust decided to remain in the sun for a little longer. Maybe that promising dark stone over there that proved to be as warm and pleasant as she expected.

_ Yes. Good stone _ .

She wasn't especially worried about him. Sometimes he disappeared, he always came back, even after he had argued so much with the other human that he left. Faust would have liked them to stay. They had been kind to her, and they always warmed their hands before petting her scales. Asra had been angry at first, then sad, then angry and sad after the both of them returned to Vesuvia and he learned what happened to the other human. Faust knew that her familiar understood a lot of things, but death wasn't among them, and when she tried to explain him that this was just how things were, he wouldn't understand or listen.

She was about to take a little nap when the slippery doctor said "Hello there," and sat down with her. This was unexpected and she wasn't sure if she liked it. Opened one red eye to look up at him, “ _ Sad? _ "

By now, Faust knew how humans felt when they were. Asra had been long and often enough. Sometimes still was, when his warmth curled up into a little ball deep inside to keep itself alive, so small and tight that he couldn't feel it himself anymore and almost forgot how to get it back.

"Do you think he ran from me, little lady? Or did he run from himself?" The human sighed. "I reminded him of something he'd like to forget, didn't I? I'm really a master of that. Always saying just the wrong things, always finding just the place that hurts. Guess that's a gift in my profession."

She opened her second eye. " _ You'll stay, yes? _ "

For a moment, the human seemed to hear, to  _ understand _ , but then he rubbed his face, brain refusing to hear things that could not be.

"You're not, by any chance, poisonous?" Vague hope in his voice. "No, probably not, or he wouldn't keep you that close. He's probably wiser than me in that regard. If you were, I'd fall for you in no time, only to get bitten and then wonder why I lie dying. Or with a violent allergic reaction that makes my head swell up twice its size... Silly me, right? And just no good with people."

  
  


As if by some cue, a violent rustling sounded from a little bit away from the snake and the doctor. They both looked in the direction of the commotion, as a sinking feeling grew in the pit of the doctor's stomach. A golden arm exploded from the leaves the wrong way through a row of greenery, and Faust quickly slithered back up into her tree, leaving Julian with the sight of a vaguely disheveled Count Lucio emerging gracelessly from a bush. "Ugh, who _designed_ this?" He moved to kick the poor plant, before spotting the doctor at the fountain. Immediately, Lucio seemed to straighten, slicking back blond hair and throwing Julian a grin that oozed smarm. He looked as if someone had tried and failed to get dressed, the loose white cloth of his shirt billowing in the breeze. No vest, no coat, and while the weather was nice, it wasn’t enough for a man in his state of health to be out and about like this. "Jules! I heard you were hiding around here..."  Before Devorak could reply, Lucio made his way over, sitting beside him and none too casually sliding up until thighs touched, arm draped over cloaked shoulders. "I had to run, some idiot servant kept trying to put this smelly paste on me from that knowitall Asra, but you know better, right?" Lucio beamed, gripping the other's shoulder _too_ affectionately.

Devorak winced as golden claws dug into his skin, barely hindered by black fabric.

"Lucio. You know you shouldn't be out of bed, even if you're feeling better. _Are_ you feeling better?" He wanted to get up, but that would have meant to brush off the Count's hand, and that would hurt even more, and might provoke him into something silly, and--

  
  


Faust had decided to stay and watch what the humans would be doing. She didn't like the bright one. He felt  _ wrong  _ from the first moment.

"I'm feeling  _ much  _ better, Doctor. Golden Goose might be just the thing to cure me." He did indeed reek of the very expensive alcohol. The doctor noticed it over the smell of sleep and sickness.

Lucio laughed, letting his claw of an arm fall, Julian about to scoot away, when the count wrapped it around his waist, pulling him close. "C'mon, check my temperature," he leered, jutting out his chin and swaying cheekily against Devorak.

"We need to get you to bed, Lucio. You know you don't want to be seen like this by the servants." Julian tried his best stern-doctor-voice, the one he used for unruly children. The man  _ stank _ , of old sweat and illness and herbs, and a thin sheen of fresh sweat made his skin glisten.

" _ Lucio. Lucio. Lucio _ ." The Count mimic'd in varied intonations, gripping Julian harder. "Y'know, we  _ used  _ to be less formal." Another chuckle emitted from the blond, whose human hand came to grip the doctor's chin, reddened eyes meeting his own, always hungry, always demanding. "I got you to call me Monty once."

"That was another life, wasn't it?" A desperate grin.  _ And it was just once, and you... you told me I loved you, and I wanted to believe, and you... _

  
  


Ilya remembered the night full of smoke and wine and desperate kisses, long before Montag had become what he was now, and for a heartbeat, his eyes grew soft.

All too clearly, it came back to him, clear as the water spilling out from the fountain. The way the fire had been playing across the blond’s features, the way his eyes, blue and clear at the time, shone in the light,  _ watching  _ Devorak, in the middle of some tall tale or recollection of an adventure. Two arms, warm and human, rested on Montag’s knees as a smug grin graced his features. One after another, members of the accompanying mercenary crew retired, leaving the two alone, draining what little wine was left in their cups.

The blond was still watching the doctor, as before. “That’s all true? All that?” Montag asked, going for a refill. Finding the skin empty, he tossed it casually aside, coming to rest his chin in his palm, looking to Julian. He was downright  _ admiring _ .

"Of course it is true! Could these lips ever tell a lie?" The doctor did his best to sound indignant. Of course it was true. Maybe a bit embellished for entertainment purposes, but true nonetheless. Drink had already colored his cheeks, and the way the blue eyes were on him didn't improve the situation.

Julian didn't particularly  _ like  _ Montag. As a teller of grand stories about heroic deeds, he preferred them to be full of wit and silliness and heart, while all the blond told about was blood and fire and violence. A rather unpleasant personality, all in all.

The mercenary laughed, shaking his head. After shooting a disbelieving look at the doctor, he noticed more wine that sat behind him. “That doesn’t look like that’s all that mouth could do.” With a cheeky scoff, the blond reached an arm behind the doctor’s back, leaning in and looking down at his lips.

They were stained dark with wine, like blood from a vein in the glow of the fire, shimmering and smooth and trembling like those of a maiden.

Montag leaned in slightly closer still, so slowly, breath intermingling, eyes sliding closed -

And he pulled away, laughing while already refilling his cup. “Oh, Jules, your  _ face _ .” He laughed again, far too loudly. “You actually wanted me to kiss you.” He stated, actually more surprised than he was aware.

"What? The nerve!" Julian held out his cup, laughing too, even if it sounded a tad nervous. "Fill me up, will you?"

With a devious smirk, the merc puffed out in a way that reminded Julian of a white peacock, before shifting over to refill his glass. Just as the cup filled, Montag cackled, jumping forward and swooping down, scooping the doctor up lackadaisically into his lap, laid out by the fire. The jostling successfully spilled most of the wine, and the blond looked at the redhead in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know what you wanted me to fill you up with.”

The joke was very real this time, Devorak noticing very quickly how  _ firm  _ the blond’s intentions were.

"My  _ cup _ , Monty," his voice dry as ancient paper. "With  _ wine _ ."

  
  


Montag still sometimes scared him, even though by now he was quite sure they were both on the same side. A vicious little bugger, no matter how you turned it.

The same smirk still graced the blond’s face as he eyed the doctor. “Oh, oh. Oh. Sorry,” he started on the refill, hips still lodged between the redhead’s thighs.

Montag grinned as he finally capped the skin, Julian taking a sip as hands came to grip at his waist.

“Tell me another tale, Jules.”

"And what would little Monty like to hear? Something about war, or about love, or something spooky?" The merc's heated body against his own wasn't all too unpleasant, that he had to admit, even though he blamed most of that feeling on drink, and Montag's hard cock felt like a very honest compliment.

Devorak knew the man had taken a liking to him, as much as he was able to, but it was very one-sided. He had seen him kill, and he had seen what he did to those that had to survive, and neither made him put much trust in him as somebody he wanted close - or behind him.

A snarl at the nickname, before Montag moved a hand to the small of Julian’s back possessively. 

Sensing the doctor shift in his lap, he grinned. “War.”

_ Of course _ .

"War then. Let me tell you one that is about war by different means.” He took a sip to moisten his throat. “It was in Prakra, not quite forty years ago. You will of course say I wasn’t there to witness it with my own eyes, but it was told to me by one who almost lost a foot there and had the scars to prove it. Let your mind wander to the hustle and bustle of Prakra, the narrow streets filled with sunshine and the fragrance of spices and coffee so strong it dissolves your spoon if you keep in in for too long. It was there that the ambassador of Sveljati, a fat and merry man, shiny as a ball of butter on a sunny day, boarded his coach to visit the palace. He had no invitation, but a heart heavy with anger, for, you see, Prakrian troops stood before the walls of his beloved country, crying for blood or gold or both. That was a thing that happened often enough. In Prakra, we called it  _ taxes _ .” A short pause for chuckle that did not come. "You aren't even listening." Julian complained, his index finger still high in the air to underline the failed joke as Montag's hands found their way up his thighs to the buckle of his belt. "Do I bore you?"

"Am so listening." Came the distracted reply, buckle coming undone with ease. The blond didn't wait long to tug down on the waist of Julian's pants, exposing him to the night air, the mercenary set himself down and leaned in, hovering over the length of the doctor. Montag grinned, eyeing up at him before biting at a boney hip, mouth warm. "You were saying?"

Gloved hands dug into blond hair and dragged him towards the middle of his body, where the pole slowly started to rise. “As I was saying: The ambassador on his way. His carriage proud and glistening in the sun, six horses drawing it to make a point, and the ambassador himself a very impressive and glittering creature in his ornate armor. A mean onlooker might claim he looked like a particularly sparkly ornament for the Seven Nights. Now, Prakra is a city that has grown with time, from humble and small origins to the delightful jewel it is today, and you can still feel it in the way the little streets wind and writhe in her heart, where all the interesting things are, and the foreign secretary had the very same idea as the ambassador. Make a grand entrance and tell the enemy to be that giving up now would make him a wise man and save hundreds, no thousands of lives. No bloodshed necessary. Of course, each of them decided that only the most direct route would be the right one to take, so another carriage, this one slightly more martial, but not less proud, rumbled over cobblestone, the couchman cursing those that were in his way and barely found enough space between houses and horses to move out of his way. Imagine now those two impressive vehicles in the same tight lane, facing each other. Fiery horses huffing their anger with the blockade in their way and the tumultus surroundings, two drivers shouting at each other.  _ Move back, Sveljatian bastard! _ \--”

As the doctor spoke, Montag let his eyes drop, mischievous grin still on his face. It took him little time before his lips, eager and tender, closed in around the tip of Julian’s cock. Blue eyes blinked up testingly, teasing, before his mouth drew back, lazily licking at the hardened flesh before him until the story came to a harsh pause. Only then he continued.

The doctor groaned. Took a hard breath, his dick pulsing against Montag's tongue, tasting of salt and medical herbs. “You always were one for unnecessary cruelties, weren't you?“ One hand got tangled in blond hair, pushing him down.

Up came a hand, swatting the push away, very quickly folding under the doctor's wrist and locking it in a hard grip. Grabbing Julian's other wrist and holding it firm, the mercenary brought his whole mouth down around the length of him with a firm suck. Just as quickly, again the blond retreated, grinning mercilessly as the doctor found his arms pinned solidly at his sides.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." With a goading tap to his arms, Montag gestured with his head, unattended cock pulsing in the air before him. "C'mon. What happens next?"

  
  


-

  
  


Faust knew what these two were doing. People did it in the streets at night, usually with one of them crying and trying to get away, and it seemed it was one of those situations, with the slippery doctor trying to unwind from the sick man's touch without letting him know.  _ Poor polite boy. Scared. _

Even from up in her perch, she could see, feel, the conflict in the doctor as he ended up gingerly taking the sick man’s hand from off a thigh. Continued to hold it even when the man looked disappointed. The doctor placed an arm under the man’s shoulders and dragged him up. With muffled complaints and the aura of annoyance, they began to make their away from the tree. Just as Faust imagined the quiet that would descend after they left, there was a commotion and a flailing of arms, black cloak flapping about.

  
  


"You promise?" That was the metal man. He sounded like a sick child by now, voice high and feeble, and the doctor was doing his best to keep him from falling as his knees suddenly gave away.

"I promise, Monty. We'll take you to bed and then I'll finally finish the story."

"You'll stay til I sleep." It was supposed to be an order, but sounded like a plea.

"I will. C'mon,--" Devorak dragged him upright, giving him enough assistance to remain that way, "-- we can do that."

  
  


Faust was content. Whatever mammalian thing there had been between them, it was gone again. Almost, at least. It stuck to the slippery boy like glue or crusted blood, but so many things did that he was almost invisible under them, but then, this place wasn't sunny enough, and there was little she could do for him anyway.

 

 


End file.
